Things as They Are
by kaorismash
Summary: AU. If, nine long years ago, Uchiha Sasuke had known Hatake Kakashi, things might have been different.
1. I Spy

_What you should know about me, as a writer, is that I fail with conventional multi-chapter works. I usually write snippets and skip transition scenes, and that is basically what this will be: __a collection of snapshots from an alternate reality. __U__pdates will be sporadic and sequences w__on't necessarily be in chronological order.__ There are no spoilers right now, but I write with current manga perception so there's bound to be some present in the coming drabbles._

_The pairing is Kakashi/Sasuke, but considering Sasuke's age, their relationship is very much platonic right now. Consider it brotherly if you wish._

* * *

**Things as They Are**

* * *

**Title:** I Spy  
**Summary: **Itachi has a new friend. Sasuke wants to know who it is.

* * *

Nii-san, Sasuke thinks as he peers out from behind the trunk of the tree, has very strange friends.

There's a person crouched on the narrow ledge of the compound wall, wearing a hooded cloak that's covering every inch of skin. Sasuke can make out the white of a porcelain mask painted thickly with red streaks. It's like the one his brother's wearing.

When Itachi's within close range, the person shifts. A sparkling of silver cascading over the mask catches Sasuke's eyes. He dares to peak out just a tiny fraction more, watching eagerly as the hood is pushed back by half-gloved hands to reveal a canine mask and jagged hair. A steel-guarded arm, just like Itachi's, throws down an identical black cloak. The motion is fluid and careless, and Itachi catches it just as easily by the clasp.

A face is revealed when the hand reaches up to readjust the dog mask on a slant. The better half of the man's face is covered by another black facemask, but his _eyes_—Sasuke holds his breath. He can't stop staring at the one swirling-red Sharingan. He wonders if this is something he's not supposed to be seeing. Sasuke had never met any of his brother's friends besides Shisui, but he didn't really count because they were _family_.

Sasuke has certainly never seen this man before. He looks like the complete opposite of Itachi, the complete opposite of nearly everyone but the old elders of the clan, but he doesn't _look_ old, nowhere near as wrinkly as Yashiro-san. But he has the _Sharingan_. His father had told him it was the Sharingan that made the Uchiha bloodline special. Does that, then, make this man family too?

An involuntary gasp escapes from him when the heavy-lidded gaze centers on him. He takes a step back, body suddenly quivering with slight trepidation.

"Neko-chan," the man murmurs, but it's loud enough that Sasuke can hear it without straining his ears. Sasuke feels a small rush of indignation pass through him because the man is calling his brother _Neko-chan_ when he knows for a fact that Itachi's name is supposed to be _Tora-san_ because Itachi told him so. His brow furrows together while a scowl threatens the corners of his lips.

"Neko-chan," Itachi says with a passively neutral tone. Sasuke can't see his brother's face.

The mismatched eyes flicker towards Itachi before they curve into twin smiles. It brings Sasuke another step backwards, foot silent among the long, wild grass as the hairs on the back of his neck prickle upwards in agitation. It takes all his willpower not to run away because this man _knows_ that he's there and Itachi will be so mad at him if he finds out he followed him and—

"Cute kid," the man says as he tilts his head towards Sasuke. The eyes aren't completely closed anymore. Slits of grey and red focus intently on him.

He makes a noise of protest at that, because boys are not meant to be cute! And then a rush of anger floods through him, because he's just realized that it hadn't been Itachi the man had been addressing at all.

"Otouto," Itachi says, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes are narrowed in that way that shows Sasuke all too clearly that Itachi is not mad but not happy with him either.

He makes another sound from the back of his throat, shamefaced, and reluctantly steps away from the cover of the tree, shuffling a fraction of a step closer to his brother while simultaneously trying not to move from his spot. Really, he likes the distance. It makes it harder to see Itachi's face. It's shadowed nicely by the brim of the tiger mask on his head.

"You shouldn't be out here." In five quick steps that Sasuke misses because he's looking determinedly at the scattered leaves on the ground, Itachi is holding him by the shoulders and bodily turning him around. "Go back home."

Sasuke turns around in his brother's loose grip, and manages to say, "But—" before Itachi pokes him in the middle of his forehead. He cringes, hand automatically going to his head to soothe out the sore spot. "Nii-san!"

"Home," Itachi repeats, and pushes him encouragingly in the direction of the village.

Over Itachi's shoulder, Sasuke sees the man waving cheerfully at him, dog mask reflecting thin rays of dimming sunlight filtering through the canopy.

Sulking, Sasuke starts trudging back towards the village, but not before he sticks out his tongue at the figure on the wall because it was the stupid man's fault that Itachi had found him out. He hears Itachi sighing softly, and quickly breaks into a run before his brother can reprimand him.

With a little huff and a fierce scowl on his face, Sasuke decides he hates dogs.


	2. Festivities

**Title:** Festivities  
**Summary:** They meet again. Sasuke wishes they hadn't.

* * *

He all but forgets about that time, and does not think of the ANBU dog again until the week before his seventh birthday—he'd be happy if he never saw the man ever again. Tonight is the day commemorating Amaterasu, and it's a festival that stays within the walls of the Uchiha compound. It's not uncommon to see guests from outside the clan joining in on the festivities. Usually Sasuke does not care for the politics of it all and ignores the complaints he often overhears from a few of the elder members of the Corps.

"Ah, Neko-chan," a man calls cheerfully from the entrance of the compound, arm waving in a lazy gesture of greeting.

Sasuke is perhaps starting to reconsider his opinion on the outsider issue, especially when he automatically turns to the call. He scowls immediately after he registers just _what_ he responded to.

The man isn't wearing a dog mask or a thick cloak this time; he's dressed in a plain navy yukata. He could have passed for a civilian had it not been for the mask covering the lower half of his face, or the long scar bisecting the closed left eye. He's standing next to Shisui.

Sasuke huffs, and pointedly turns his attention back to the pool full of goldfish. He holds a poi in one hand and a bowl in the other, poised and steady.

"Wow," is the murmur that's unbelievably close to his ear. It makes him stiffen and jerk up from his balanced crouch, back ramrod straight and heart rate accelerating unbelievably fast. The man, anticipating the sudden move, easily avoids getting knocked in the chin.

"You're such a short kid." Feigned surprise colors his smooth voice. He sounds absolutely delighted, and that makes Sasuke's scowl deepen. Sasuke turns around in a quick motion and aims a kick to the man's shin.

The man catches his foot with his palm. A thin, silver brow disappears under equally silver bangs. "Fast," he says. Sasuke smirks, feeling rightfully smug, until the man adds, "But sloppy."

Sasuke's lips twist down in displeasure. The man ruffles his hair, and Sasuke _glares_.

There's laughter, deep and throaty, from behind. "Hatake, stop irritating the little brat." Sasuke redirects the glare to his cousin. It only makes Shisui laugh more.

An unseen smirk curls around the corners of Hatake's lips as he moves to stand next to the irritated boy. His dark, visible eye all but glitters when he rests his forearm on the head of midnight spikes. He's careful not to apply too much pressure, careful to keep his weight controlled, careful not to let the boy run away. It's not that hard, because Sasuke is reluctant to move away from the goldfish scooping pool until he's able to catch at least _one_ fish.

In retaliation, tiny fists impact into his side. He laughs, purposely loud and heartily, even as the boy screams and scowls and curses him with words no seven year old should know.

"Oh but it's so _fun_," he answers Shisui, ignoring the little whirlwind beneath his arm. He looks entirely too gleeful.

Shisui doesn't hear him, because he's busy looking scandalized. "Sasuke! Who taught you those words?"


	3. Nictation

_The new Reader Traffic feature? Very cool._

* * *

**Title:** Nictation  
**Summary: **In which there is a staring contest.

* * *

Sasuke's sitting on an overly large cushion that's the right blend of fluff and comfort. He would've been completely happy, had it not been for the shinobi lounging on another pillow on the other side of the low wooden table.

Hatake's wearing his forehead protector on a slant to cover the Sharingan eye. The other is closed and the rest of his face is covered with the facemask attached to the skintight shirt. One arm, covered in a long glove spanning all the way up to his bicep, hangs listlessly from his propped up knee. He's still wearing his uniform, sans the silver armor and the dog mask. Sasuke can see the white wrappings wound around his thigh with the kunai holster hanging off. He looks just like every other jounin in Konoha's ranks at the end of a day's mission; free of the standard, long-sleeved sweater with the bright, red swirls, and the murky, green flak jacket. He could've passed, if not for the telltale swirl tattooed onto his skin.

And right now, he's ignoring Sasuke. (Though more accurately, he's ignoring everyone.) He's leaning against the wall, dozing.

Sasuke bunches his hands together in his shirt and glares. It's not a typical glare, noo, it's _the_ glare. The one that should burn _holes_ into whatever he directs his gaze at, because the Uchiha are legendary for their doujutsu, so it would make _sense_ that he would be able to reduce shinobi to piles of dust if he wills it, wouldn't it? Or at least, some parts of them, since Hatake's ANBU.

But Hatake doesn't even so much as twitch.

Sasuke bristles. His teeth grind together behind tightly closed lips as his shoulders tremble with the temptation to reach for the pepper shakers and—

"Sasuke," Itachi says, slanting him a look that looks like every other look he gives him.

Sasuke visibly deflates, and then pouts. It quickly turns into a sulk, which morphs back into a glare when he notices the eye that's now half-lidded. He's watching him. Sasuke can't read him, so he doesn't know if he's laughing at him or if he's amused or if he feels anything at all behind the mask. His eye doesn't give anything away, but at least he's _looking at him_.

He could've been asleep and Sasuke might've had a better chance at determining his thoughts. It's the mask. Perhaps that's what aggravates Sasuke the most, the fact that he covers his face. He doesn't like it when he can't see people's faces. It's like they're hiding. People who wear masks always have something to hide, he'd overheard his father say once, and when they hide it'll be harder to _see_ and he might miss important things and then he'll never be good enough to beat Itachi.

Hatake hides his face all the time, and it's like lying, and Sasuke _hates_ liars. And perhaps, what he hates the most, is that he can't read him no matter how hard he tries.

To Sasuke's right, Itachi lets out a soundless sigh, excuses himself and stands up. He's going to see what's taking Shisui so long, he says, there's a chance he's gotten lost again.

Hatake waves a lazy hand through the air and tilts his head almost mockingly in dismissal. Itachi leaves without another word. Sasuke turns the glare to C-rank katon-level fierceness, teeth bared.

"Aren't you a little ray of sunshine." Hatake slips forward, elbow coming to rest on wood as he nestles his cheek in his palm. He might be smiling, but Sasuke can't tell even at the closer proximity. He's blinking slowly.

A thin black brow twitches and Sasuke stares back at him impudently. He refuses to blink.

The silence stretches to ten seconds, then fifteen, then twenty. A faint smirk tugs up the corners of Hatake's shadowed lips. He hums. "Is that how you want to be," he says, and it's not really a question. A spark of what Sasuke's certain is amusement plays over the grey iris. Hatake tilts his head to the side, keeping his gaze connected with Sasuke's. He stops blinking.

And suddenly, it's a Staring Competition. Determined, Sasuke purses his lips together and widens his eyes just a bit to keep them from closing. Being an Uchiha gives him an advantage. He has an unusually longer blinking rate than most; he's confident it's longer than Hatake's.

Never mind the fact that he's had his eyes open for an extra twenty seconds than his opponent. Sasuke likes to think he's generous that way.

The seconds trickle by and Sasuke quickly grows frustrated. The eye is still hooded in its perpetual state of sleepiness. It doesn't appear as if he's moved a hairsbreadth in the past thirty—thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three—seconds. As the time reaches well over the minute mark since the mutual commencement, Sasuke feels his eyes burning. They're starting to strain with the lack of lubrication, but he can feel tears gathering at his tear ducts. He bites his lip and furrows his brows together and widens his eyes even more, as if forcefully keeping his eyes open would keep his eyelids from surrendering.

He starts holding his breath someway between one minute and forty seconds, and two minutes, unconsciously. He isn't aware of it, until Hatake opens his mouth and says, "I don't think Itachi-kun would forgive me if you asphyxiated." The eye curves slightly, but it's still open, and it doesn't shut. Hatake hums again with a slight inflection that could either be considering or boredom—Sasuke looks deranged, and perhaps a little bit cute, but still very deranged.

Sasuke tries not to get angry, but it's so hard not to and he really, really wants to kick the man in the shins. Sasuke's very good at that, usually. He breathes through his nose, fumes silently, and then becomes suspicious. He wonders if there's a technique that allows the user to turn into a statue, because that _has_ to be what Hatake's doing, if just for his eyes. There's no _way_ he should be able to keep this up.

At three minutes, Sasuke's eyes are strained with reddened veins and the man is completely out of focus in his sight. It's only through sheer force of will that they're open, but it's a new personal best. Grudgingly, he's surprised he's managed it for so long, but _why isn't Hatake showing any signs of tiring?_ A small sound—of resentment, indignation, or perhaps frustration—bubbles at the back of his throat.

"Kakashi-san," a smooth voice cuts through their gaze and drags it towards Itachi, who's standing at the edge of the table with a wry expression on his face. Shisui is at his side, brow raised and mouth smirking.

The interruption forces Sasuke to blink. He whimpers (not because he lost—he hasn't registered that yet) because his eyes feel painfully like sandpaper no matter how much he blinks. He lowers his eyelids completely, and brings his hands to cover them for extra protection. He scowls when he feels tears sliding onto his lashes as he blinks furiously.

Itachi settles down next to Sasuke and continues, ever polite, "Please stop antagonizing my brother."

There's a slight rustle, indicative of Hatake leaning back against the wall. He chuckles softly, a low, sensual sound that makes Sasuke less angry than he wants to feel. He has to resist the urge to peek out from beneath his hands. "We were just engaging in a harmless competition, weren't we, Neko-chan?" A mischievous smile colors his voice.

Then Sasuke gives into the temptation and glares at him again. The sudden flooding of light is a little stinging, and the silver of the man's hair is perhaps just a little bit more blinding, but his glare is now a B-rank katon-level glare. "Cheater!" he hisses.

Shisui laughs.

Itachi wipes his chopsticks over with a tissue, and then rearranges them on his bowl.

Hatake simply stares at him blankly.

Sasuke huffs and scowls and turns his face to the side, pert little nose in the air.

As if to prove a point—or most likely, just to get a rise from Sasuke who's too disciplined in Itachi's company—for the duration of the dinner, Hatake never once blinks, nor does he remove his eyes from Sasuke's.

He also deliberately monopolizes the peppershaker's time.


	4. Affinity

**Title:** Affinity  
**Summary: **Sasuke wants to be stronger. He thinks Kakashi can help him.

* * *

The gap between the door and the frame widens just enough for Sasuke to make out the glint of silver hair curtaining sleepy eyes.

"You're training Itachi-nii-san," he says, lips thinning into a determined line.

Kakashi pushes the door away with a lazy hand to lean against the frame, slouching in a way that annoys Sasuke. He shrugs.

Sasuke tries not to glare at the gesture. "Teach me," he demands, but there's a grimace on his face.

Kakashi raises the brow that's usually hidden beneath his hitai-ate. "Are you genin?" he asks mildly, as if being genin would make all the difference.

Sasuke's frown deepens and he averts his eyes from Kakashi's blank stare.

"No?"

Kakashi sounds so incredibly bored and it makes Sasuke angry. He stops trying to be polite and outright glares. "You _will_ teach me!"

"Oh?" Kakashi's brow climbs higher, hidden beneath his bangs, and the corners of his lips curl up underneath his mask. "Why's that?"

Sasuke has no idea how to answer that. He doesn't know what Kakashi means: "Why should I teach you?" or "Why do you want to learn?" or maybe something else entirely. There are many answers, and he doesn't know which one is the right one. _I want to be stronger than Itachi-nii,_ he wants to say, _I want to be the strongest, I want to protect my family._

Selfishly, _I want my father to be proud of me._

Suddenly his hope deflates and leaves behind cords of disappointment. He feels foolish. Why would the Copy Ninja teach the second son of the head Uchiha family when he can teach the firstborn genius? Sasuke keeps his head bowed and focuses on the doormat, thick and dusty and not battered like the other apartments' in the hallway. He doesn't need to see to know that Kakashi has one eye trained on him. He can feel the weight of Kakashi's stare settling over him like a thick, heavy cloak.

"Never mind," he mumbles under his breath, and turns around to run.

But a half-gloved hand slides around his nape and stops him as he takes not even half a step. The fingers are warm and rough and spread a tingling sensation down his spine like pinpricks.

Kakashi bends down to Sasuke's level. "I'm not jounin-sensei," he says.

Sasuke stares indignantly at the door directly opposite of Kakashi's apartment, and tries not to blink as heated tears begin to coat his eyes. Small, tiny hands tighten into fists. "You're better than jounin-sensei," he responds, sullen and upset. Kakashi is part of ANBU, and he _knows_ ANBU are even better than jounin.

Kakashi exhales loudly, and he's close enough that Sasuke feels the muffled heat at his neck. It causes the tiny hairs at his nape to prickle up.

"Tomorrow at ten o'clock; training ground number eight," Kakashi drawls. Never mind the fact that Sasuke has classes at the Academy at that time, or that he has never been to any training grounds besides those inside the Compound or within the Academy.

But, Sasuke thinks with rising elation, he'll skip school if he has to, because Kakashi just agreed to teach him and now there's no way he _won't_ get stronger; his father will look at him, really look at him, and finally, _finally_ see more than a little boy struggling to stand up straight in the shadow of the perfect Uchiha.

"Don't be late," Kakashi says. He gives Sasuke's neck—thin, vulnerable, oh-so-breakable—a gentle squeeze that's more reassuring than warning, before he pushes the boy forward. "Now scram."

Sasuke sprints excitedly to the stairwell without a backward glance.


End file.
